Lately, we've been having somewhat of a problem with mice. Our estate was built around 8 years ago, on top of one of the biggest farms in the county, which may explain it. Though, in the last 6 years we had only one mouse (in my room, naturally, the amount of food and drink I keep in here makes it somewhat of a Holy Grail that all mice should aspire to find.)
However, in the last month we've killed 3. We then saw a very fat one, who has now had children.
I'm not really known for being the epitome of manliness at the best of times.
So imagine, if you will, my reaction to this:
I arrived home from school today, opened the garage door, stepped inside and whilst turning to close the door my heel stepped on something, so I brushed it aside while I shut the door.
Turned around to go inside the house, looked down and saw a very startled looking mouse, dead in a mousetrap, that I have just stomped on and kicked.
Though in my defence, it was a more of a yelp than my usual squeal.